


Masks

by Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Memory Alteration, Mid-Canon, POV Second Person, Past Brainwashing, Physical Abuse, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 05:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate/pseuds/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate
Summary: There's a reason you're the commander: you do what you're told, and you don't ask questions.





	Masks

There’s a reason you’re the commander: you do what you’re told, and you don’t ask questions.

You know everything you need to know. If anybody wanted to hide something from you, especially King P, there was probably a good reason behind it. Too much knowledge could be damaging, after all, and you do not want to inconvenience the king’s plans by prying into matters that don’t concern you.

You follow all orders quickly and precisely, making sure to obey the king’s instructions down to the last word. If you were ordered to, say, exterminate an entire village, you’d make sure that not a single speck of dust from that village would remain. In the end, when all the chaos and bloodshed was over, one wouldn’t be able to tell that the area had ever been inhabited at all.

You do not take mutiny lightly, though betrayal is very rare among your ranks. The army knows not to mess with you, for you are the most powerful force on the Pig King’s side. With just one blow from your mighty sword of lightning, any traitor who would dare to rebel against the king’s rule would be struck down before they could even say a single word of repentance. It is your duty to protect the king from any possible threats, and if that means getting rid of a few soldiers, you’re okay with that.

Yes, you are a good robot. You know for a fact because the king tells you so, and anything the king says is the truth. You were created for the sole purpose of leading the Pigmask Army to glory and expanding the empire, so you have to be a good robot, or else you would be wasting the king’s valuable time and resources.

So you do your job, travelling from city to city, forest to forest, desert to desert, in search of ways to increase the king’s power. People who resist are eliminated, creatures who show promise are converted into chimeras or new recruits, and everything else is left to rot unless King P says otherwise. That’s just the way of the world.

Truthfully, you do not like working for King P, but you do not dislike it, either. Being a robot, you are incapable of feeling any real attachment to your line of work, but you tell the king that you enjoy it because it is the proper way to answer. It is your duty to make the Pig King happy, after all, so you have to be obedient, even if you don’t understand what it means to like or dislike something.

When you receive your orders to pull the seven needles, you don’t waste any time and send troops out to locate them. The sooner you find them, the sooner the king would achieve godlike powers, and then nothing would stop him. He seems excited about it, so you tell yourself that you are excited too, even though you do not know what excitement feels like.

“It’ll be awesome!” the king rasps, his enthusiasm evident despite his hoarse voice. “We’ll have the power of the Dark Dragon on our side, and then anybody who doesn’t like me will be destroyed. Doesn’t that sound cool?”

You aren’t sure how to classify things as “cool,” but you nod anyway because that is what the Pig King wants. He seems satisfied and smirks before launching into a coughing fit. You patiently wait for him to finish just in case he has something else he wants to say to you.

“Oh, yeah,” he says once his hacking and wheezing dies down, “by the way, there’s one last thing you should know.”

His face turns serious, and for a moment it occurs to you just how _old_ he really is. He claims to be a child, and you believe him, but your knowledge of children doesn’t include wrinkly, bearded ones.

“There are these annoying people from Tazmily who keep trying to get in the way of my plans,” the king growls, his voice harsh and bitter. “And apparently, all my other troops are too stupid to stop them.”

Ah, yes, you know about them. The people from Tazmily, lead by a 13-year-old boy with blonde hair and a striped shirt. Somehow, that description sounds familiar, but you don’t tell that to the king. Surely, it isn’t relevant to the mission.

“So,” King P pauses to cough some more before leaning back over the table from his mechanical throne. “I want you to kill ‘em. Think you can do that for me?”

Of course you can. You nod automatically, already coming up with a plot to catch them off-guard. All you have to do is find out where they were spotted last, follow the trail from there, and-

“You know what they look like, right?” the Pig King asks, immediately snapping you out of your plotting. You shake your head; you had only heard descriptions of the rebels, but you had never actually seen them. You have better things to do than worry about a group of nosy people, after all.

“Here ya go,” King P says, one of the legs on his throne sliding a photograph over to you. You pick it up and start to examine it when another jolt of familiarity runs down your spine.

There are four of them - a boy, a girl, a man, and a dog. The girl doesn’t evoke any response from you, but the remaining three strike you as oddly important, especially the boy. You don’t realize that you’re stock-still until the king calls you to attention.

“Hey!” he yells, his tone surprisingly sharp. “Do you hear me, you dumb bucket of bolts? I want you to KILL them!”

Hastily, you stuff the photo into the pocket of your coat and move to salute your commander. He doesn’t seem satisfied, and without warning, one of the mechanical limbs from his throne shoots out and grabs you by the neck.

“I want ‘em DEAD, understand?! DEAD!”

Since you are a robot, you can’t breathe, but the cold metal claw crushing your neck is highly uncomfortable. It almost hurts, but you know that’s impossible because you can’t feel pain, right?

“KILL THEM!” the king practically screeches. “Kill them, kill them, _kill them!_ ”

For a moment, you catch a brief glimpse of his eyes behind his thinning white hair - so wild and alive despite how old and frail he really is. You wonder if this is what fear feels like.

Then, just as spontaneously as he grabbed you, he drops you to the ground like a ragdoll. You get up, trying to appear unfazed by his sudden outburst.

The Pig King lapses into another coughing fit, and in an instant, he is back to being an elderly man, weakened by the toll of immortality. There is nothing you can do to assist him, so you stand at attention until he is ready to talk again.

“Go,” he rasps, “go and find those idiots and slash ‘em with your sword until they’re dead, and then bring the pieces to me. If you find any of the needles, bring those, too.”

You nod, salute, and are dismissed.

Killing them shouldn’t be too difficult, you think to yourself as you pull up a map of the islands in your head. All you have to do is find out where they were last sighted and head there. No big deal. A simple mission. Still…

You feel...something, something you thought you had forced down long ago, nagging at the back of your mind. You _know_ those people. You _know_ that boy. You have no clue why, but you know him.

But that’s not important. Whether you know him or not, he’s still a traitor, and you’re still going to eliminate him.

There’s a reason you’re the commander: you do what you’re told, and you don’t ask questions.

**Author's Note:**

> claus from inside the masked man's head: let me out fucker


End file.
